


velvet goldmine.

by empireoffclouds



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: And there will be some cameos from some of my favorite 70s musicians, As was typical for that era, Band Fic, Friends to Enemies to Lovers, Inspired only in essence by the 1998 movie Velvet Goldmine, M/M, Rock star Pierre, Well more like a 70's rock AU, alcohol and drug use
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-16 04:22:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28575954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/empireoffclouds/pseuds/empireoffclouds
Summary: The year is 1971, and Pierre Gasly is the lead singer of a popular rock band known as Velvet Goldmine. Pierre truly has it all: the talent, the fame, the money, and the adoration from thousands of strangers that scream his name every night.But what happens when someone from his past comes back into his life, and threatens to throw his seemingly perfect world out of its axis?(Alternatively: the 70's rock scene AU that shows my take on how the drivers would have lived if they'd been part of the golden era of sex, drugs, and rock and roll)
Relationships: Charles Leclerc/Daniel Ricciardo, George Russell/Nicholas Latifi, Jenson Button/Sebastian Vettel, Lewis Hamilton/Nico Rosberg, Pierre Gasly/Esteban Ocon
Comments: 21
Kudos: 39





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone I am back with my second multi-chaptered AU. I am a huge fan of 70's rock and especially the rock scene, and I decided to use my otherwise useless knowledge of the era to write this AU.
> 
> As a disclaimer, any song lyrics that I use in this will definitely be borrowed from an already existing song, because I am nowhere near talented enough to actually compose original songs. 
> 
> And warning: there will be descriptions of drug and alcohol use so if you are in any way triggered by that I would recommend sitting this one out.
> 
> I have no idea how many chapters I'll write, so we'll just see how it goes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone I am back with my second multi-chaptered AU. I am a huge fan of 70's rock and especially the rock scene, and I decided to use my otherwise useless knowledge of the era to write this AU.
> 
> As a disclaimer, any song lyrics that I use in this will definitely be borrowed from an already existing song, because I am nowhere near talented enough to actually compose original songs. 
> 
> And warning: there will be descriptions of drug and alcohol use so if you are in any way triggered by that I would recommend sitting this one out.
> 
> I have no idea how many chapters I'll write, so we'll just see how it goes!
> 
> (Oh and also, the song used in this chapter is 20th Century Boy by Marc Bolan)

The roaring of the crowd was so loud that the whole building seemed to shake in time with the noise, sending out vibrations that reverberated from the dressing room walls and hit him with the force of a very light punch.

Pierre sighed, looking at himself in the mirror and dabbing around his eyes to get the sparkly eyeshadow just the way he liked it. The silver makeup combined with the sharp black eyeliner George had helped him put on made his blue eyes look impossibly brighter, and he knew that the front rows of the audience would go wild if he so much as spared them a glance.

Perhaps there’d be a fainting spell or two, it had happened before.

He remembered how different it had been a few years ago, when they were still playing dingy bars in front of barely fifteen people at a time, for just enough money to get them to the next city.

He remembered long car rides where they’d had to squeeze together to fit into the backseat of their van, and how they’d somehow manage to fall asleep in a tangle of limbs.

He remembered brown eyes looking at him through the darkness of the night, and how they had always been filled with adoration that he thought would never fizzle out.

It had all been so different back then.

The sudden opening of the dressing room door effectively snapped him out from his train of thought, and he turned his head to find Daniel standing there, looking like a picture of temptation with his tight leather pants and naked chest that was already covered in gold-colored glitter.

“I thought you’d learned your lesson after having to spend five hours getting glitter out of your pubes” Pierre deadpanned as he turned back towards the mirror, not missing the way Daniel raised a suggestive eyebrow.

“You could always help me get them out, I’m sure it’d be much quicker” the Australian drawled, slowly walking over to Pierre before placing his large hands over his shoulders and massaging the tense muscles.

Pierre rolled his eyes fondly “Your little seductive act might work on the groupies but it sure as hell doesn’t work on me babe. I’ve seen you drooling in your sleep one too many times for it to be effective”

Daniel finally broke at that, and he gave out one of those booming laughs that never failed to make Pierre smile.

“It was worth a shot I suppose” he shrugged, squeezing Pierre’s cheek playfully as the Frenchman swatted at him with a makeup brush “and I was sent here to tell you we’re on in five”

As if on cue, the screams of the crowd got louder at his words, and Pierre felt the familiar thrill of anticipation that he always did whenever it was time to perform.

No matter how much things had changed since they started playing together as a band, that was one thing he could count on that never would.

“Let’s do this then”

With that, he took a big swig of his Smirnoff bottle and stood up, letting Dan fuss over his white, flowy camisole until it was arranged just the way he wanted it.

Dan nodded approvingly “Now you can go blow them away superstar”

The second they stepped out of the dressing room the noise got almost unbearably loudly, and the adrenaline coupled with the alcohol was enough to get Pierre’s blood pumping, feeling almost like he had electricity thrumming under his skin that only got stronger the closer they got to the stage.

A sea of unknown people swarmed the long corridors of the venue, all of them stretching their arms to get a feel of the rock stars of the hour in lieu of wishing them good luck.

Not that Daniel nor Pierre payed them any mind, already way too used to the attention for it to affect them much anymore.

George and Alex were already waiting for them by the side of the stage, their guitarist actually wearing a shirt for once (it was actually an unbuttoned black blazer with red accents that still left his abdomen fully exposed and matched beautifully with the flowy black pants he had on, but oh well) and their drummer being the most covered up of the lot with a simple white floral blouse and light denim jeans.

“Took your sweet time” George teased as he slung his black Les Paul over his shoulders in a swift movement that came from years of practice.

“We were a second away from calling up Robert to replace you” Alex piped in, twirling his drumsticks around on his deft fingers “he still owes us from that one time with Jimmy in Berlin”

Pierre winced “I thought we all agreed never to talk about Berlin”

“I always follow that rule!”

“That’s because you don’t even remember what happened in Berlin, Daniel” George laughed, patting Dan’s head like you would a confused puppy.

Dan grinned “Oh, right”

“Okay time to go out there boys, remember we’re in Madrid and not in Munich – Daniel that one’s for you – and please try not to break any equipment” their manager interrupted, trying to be as professional as he always did until George swooped in and planted a loud kiss on his lips, his entire face flushing red as the others cat called.

“We always behave Nicky” Alex smirked, enjoying how easy it was to rile up the Canadian even after all these years.

“Yeah, yeah” Nicky rolled his eyes, but still lovingly squeezed George’s waist “just go out there and give a good show”

“Don’t we always Nicholas?” Pierre winked, already turning up his front man persona that had gained him the reputation he now had as one of the most coveted yet unreachable stars in the rock scene.

Robert Plant might be England’s golden god, but Pierre Gasly had always preferred to be referred to as a supernova.

With that they all trailed out to the stage, first Alex, then George, then Daniel, and finally Pierre – the screams loud enough to deafen as the people got their first glimpse of the members of Velvet Goldmine.

“Good evening Munich” Pierre purred into the microphone, his velvety voice that had inspired their band name ringing out through the auditorium and making goosebumps rise in more than half of the attendees’ skin “are you ready to have some fun?”

The words had barely left his mouth when George started playing one of their most well-known riffs, the audience immediately cheering and accompanying him with the claps of their hands.

“ _Friends say it’s fine, friends say it’s good,_

 _Everybody says it’s just like rock and roll_ ”

Pierre’s hips started to move to the rhythm of the music, taking the microphone from the stand so he could strut around as he pleased.

“ _I move like a cat, charge like a ram, sting like a bee, babe I want to be your man_ ”

He dropped to his knees at that last part, the people right in front of the stage losing their minds as they tried with all their might to grab at the singer.

“ _Well it’s plain to see, you were meant for me, yeah I’m your toy, your 20 th century boy_”

Pierre threw his head back, exposing his long, tanned neck in a way he knew to be tantalizing enough to make a grown man cry.

He stood back up to roam through the stage freely, making sure everyone was getting their money’s worth as he shamelessly flirted with his bandmates, Daniel going as far as to slap his ass as he passed him by.

As the song reached its climax Pierre felt that delicious high inundating his whole being, losing himself to the music as George played his heart out, pressed back-to-back with Daniel while the bassist accompanied him with one sexy bassline.

Pierre’s throaty scream finished up their first song, and he basked in the applause for a few seconds before craning his neck towards where George was standing and giving the cue to start the next one.

 _Yes_ , he thought, _this was what he had been born to do_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that was the first chapter! This one was mostly to set the tone and introduce Electric Blue, and next chapter we'll actually get into the juicy stuff.
> 
> If you liked it please remember to leave kudos and/or comments and also you can go find me in tumblr at @lewixco 🤍


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! So this chapter is a little longer than the last one, and we can see just a little bit of Pierre's backstory.
> 
> The songs mentioned/used in this chapter are: 2HB by Roxy Music and Layla by Derek & the Dominoes, two excellent songs which you should definitely listen to 💛

Pierre was sufficiently accustomed to waking up with a pounding headache that he didn’t so much as flinch when it happened anymore.

His face was pressed against the pillow, so at least he’d been responsible enough to fall asleep on an actual bed instead of on the floor – been there done that, and he certainly wouldn’t recommend it – and he could also feel someone’s naked leg pressing against his own.

He slowly lifted his head up and peeked one eye open, only just enough so he could see who it was that was sleeping next to him, and he instantly felt more relaxed when he saw Alex’s snoring face.

Maybe he couldn’t remember everything that had happened last night, but whatever it was, at least it hadn’t happened with a stranger.

Pierre carefully rolled over in his stomach, knowing from experience that making any sudden movements while he was hungover could quickly prove to be a recipe for disaster, and he was happy to find that he was still wearing his boxers.

Sleeping with Alex wouldn’t be anything new, but he preferred to remember his sexual escapades, thank you very much.

When the room had finally stopped spinning, he got up from the bed and headed to the shower, letting the scalding water wash over him, feeling like a brand new person as he dried his hair off with a fluffy towel and slipped on a clean pair of underwear.

“Good morning sleeping beauty” he called out when he saw Alex sitting up against the headboard, looking way better than Pierre felt even after he had already freshened up.

“Morning” Alex replied, voice still rough with sleep “how much do you remember from last night?”

Pierre pouted. They had such little faith in his ability to hold his alcohol.

Granted, he had given them more than a few reasons for that lack of faith, but still.

“Well, I remember going to that one club, running into Iggy and following him to that other club, doing jagger shots together… and after that it’s all a bit of a blur”

“So, the usual then” Alex snorted, shaking his head fondly before stretching his limbs out like a cat. Pierre raised an appreciative eyebrow as he saw the way his naked torso stretched at the motion, exposing the older man’s very respectable six pack.

“Where’d you even find the time to work out mate?”

Alex shrugged, but he couldn’t hide the pleased look he got at Pierre’s comment “Drumming is a hell of a workout”

“That it is” Pierre agreed, going over the bed and straddling his hips in one swift motion, Alex’s hands instinctively coming to rest on his waist.

“Pierre…” he cautioned, but made no move to get the Frenchman off of him.

“Did anything happen last night?”

The Brit sighed “The fact that you even have to ask is a little worrying, but no, it didn’t”

“Why not?” Pierre asked faux innocently, running a teasing finger down Alex’s toned chest and making goosebumps appear over his skin.

This time Alex did stop him, gently grabbing Pierre’s wandering hand and placing it firmly back on top of the bedsheets.

“We’re not going there again”

“And I ask again, why not?”

“Because the band doesn’t need the added drama” Alex reminded him matter-of-factly, and really, sometimes it irked him, the way he always made so much sense.

“I hate it when you’re right”

For all that Pierre liked to sleep around, he wasn’t one to have casual sex with the same person more than once. The media and the fans might like to paint him as an aloof rock star that just didn’t do relationships, but the truth was that he was prone to catching feelings embarrassingly fast. Which was precisely why he refrained from doing it.

But one didn’t write a song like 2HB without being a romantic at heart, so he did resent that some people thought he was a cold-hearted asshole.

Pierre sighed, letting himself flop sideways into the bed to lay next to Alex instead of on top of him and slinging an arm over his chest.

Alex let him snuggle into his side, and not for the first time, Pierre was hit with the thought that things would be so much easier if he could just fall in love with someone like him. If he could just have someone good, like George and Nicky had each other.

“You’ll find your person Pierrot, don’t worry about it”

And he knew that his friend was just trying to be reassuring, but all his words did was send a pang right through his heart.

Because what if he had already found his person, but let them go?

* * *

If there was one thing that Pierre loved about their rising fame, it was that they no longer had to suffer through fifteen-hour bus rides to get from city to city.

Sure, they all had some fond memories about their time spent living in a van and then a tour bus, but nothing beat being able to sleep on the comfortable seats of their private plane and reaching their destination in only a couple of hours.

Pierre would’ve been lying if he said he didn’t feel a little vindicated when he climbed into the plane after Alex only to find Daniel already sprawled on a seat and looking absolutely miserable, so much so that not even the pair of oversized sunglasses he was wearing made anything to hide his pain.

At least now no one could say that he’d been the worst behaved last night.

“Pay up Albono” George grinned as soon as he saw them, Alex rolling his eyes before digging around on his pockets and slapping a tenner on his open hand.

“Are you guys seriously still betting on which one of us will get more wasted every time we go out?” Pierre asked in disbelief, dropping down on the seat next to Daniel and propping his legs up over his lap. The fact that he didn’t even seem to notice was testament to how hungover the Australian was.

George didn’t look the least bit bothered by the accusation “Yup, and remind me to thank Lou for convincing Daniel that shooting absinthe was a good idea when we see him again”

Pierre winced. No wonder their poor bassist looked as bad as he did. He might not learn from all of his mistakes, but after going through what he could only describe as a near-death experience because of absinthe, he’d very quickly learned not to mess with it again.

“I’m just grateful that you’re all still alive” Nicky grumbled, even if he quickly perked up as George fed him one of the croissants they had been offered.

It was very amusing to Pierre that everyone always made sure to include stereotypically French foods in their catering service wherever they went, but he certainly wasn’t complaining.

“We’d never dare to die before consulting with you first Nicky” Alex joked, yelping as he ducked to evade the grape their manager had launched at his face.

“Indoor voices please” Daniel moaned, and he sounded just miserable enough that Pierre took pity in him and repositioned them so the Aussie was now laying more comfortably across his lap.

After that the flight was uneventful, all of them either absorbed in their own thoughts or tired enough that they slept for the entirety of the three-hour flight.

Nicholas had been considerate enough to make sure that no one knew they would be arriving in Paris that day, because as much as they sometimes enjoyed meeting their fans, they always dreaded it when it was the night after a show.

It was a bit of a homecoming concert for Pierre anyways, so he knew they’d get a lot of chances to meet up with fans.

Instead, after the plane landed they were immediately ushered into a black van (George carrying Daniel from the plane and into the car like a koala) and driven over to the Ritz – a hotel they were all too familiar with.

It was Pierre’s turn to room with Daniel while Alex got the single, so he took the chance to nap next to the still unconscious man and regain some of his energy. At least they didn’t have consecutive shows all that often anymore, it had been nothing short of brutal when they’d been forced to play four or five shows in a row when they were starting up.

When he woke up again the sun was already setting, and Pierre both was and wasn’t surprised to see that Daniel was already up and happily munching on a plate of fries, while he watched French tv which he knew he didn’t understand in the slightest.

“The way you recover so quickly from hangovers will forever be a mystery” Pierre commented incredulously, sitting up in the bed and stealing a couple of fries from Dan’s plate. He hadn’t eaten anything all day, and the smell of the greasy food instantly had his stomach grumbling.

“It’s the Australian genes babe” Dan winked, ruffling Pierre’s hair in a way he knew he hated and earning himself a punch to the shoulder for it.

“Do we have any plans for tonight?”

“Uhh, I think George mentioned something about checking out this new band that’s playing the Zenith”

Pierre frowned “Well, they can’t be that new if they’re already playing there”

“That’s what I said,” Daniel shrugged “but I’ve never heard of them before so who knows”

Nicky came knocking at their door not five minutes later to tell them they’d be meeting downstairs in an hour if they wanted to go to the mysterious show, and their curiosity had been spiked enough that they didn’t think twice before agreeing.

They dressed up more inconspicuously than they would for one of their own shows, since they didn’t particularly fancy getting trampled to death if someone put two and two together and recognized them.

Fortunately for them, whenever they weren’t wearing glitter and makeup they actually looked like normal people, so it wasn’t that hard to fly under the radar when they needed to.

As they entered the Zenith, Pierre had to admit he was impressed at the turnout. That particular venue was big enough for about six thousand people, and it seemed like there was very little space left unoccupied.

Velvet Goldmine themselves had played there a few years back, before they got big enough to be moved up to the Pavillon, where they’d be playing the following night.

Try as he might, Pierre still couldn’t place the band’s name. It was bugging him more than he’d like to admit, since with their status as practically rock royalty, there was very little that went on without them knowing about it.

None of the others had heard about “Electric Blue” either, not even Nicky, which was just bizarre. Nicky knew _everything_.

When the lights finally dimmed and the crowd started to scream, Pierre felt as though he would burst from curiosity, craning his neck so he could have a clear view of the stage over the thousands of heads in front of him.

And as the band made their way out to the stage, he felt his blood run cold.

Their bassist was a tall, black haired man that looked way younger and more innocent than any rock star ought to. He seemed almost bashful as the audience cheered them on, waving his hand sheepishly and making his light grey tank top ride up to expose a sliver of toned skin.

The drummer on the other hand, was a beautiful blonde woman that looked like she had been born to be on that stage, walking over to her kit with a confident stride that would make Freddie Mercury jealous. Her red platform boots were so big that she really could kill a man with one good kick.

As for the vocalist, Pierre had to admit that he was quite possibly one of the prettiest men he’d ever seen in his life. He had a head of fluffy black hair that was held back by a black bandana, and a pair of eyes so green that he was sure people would be able to see them all the way from the very back of the auditorium. He was wearing a satin red blouse, and black leather pants that hugged him in all the right places.

But the one who instantly caught Pierre’s attention was the guitarist, who looked exactly the same as the last time he’d seen him.

He towered over the rest of his bandmates, and he looked almost unbothered at the reaction he was so clearly getting from the crowd. The black dress shirt he was wearing had a very pronounced v neck, that rode low enough to expose most of his firm chest.

He had a gorgeous white D’Angelico slung around his thin shoulders, and Pierre could almost hear George drooling at the sight of the guitar.

If he’d had any doubts about who the man was, the second he stopped fiddling with the strings and turned to face the crowd, there was no longer room for any of them.

Because Pierre could recognize those brown eyes anywhere.

“Is that –“

Alex trailed off, head snapping in Pierre’s direction with a worried look on his face.

But Pierre wouldn’t have been able to answer even if he’d finished the question, because right then the music started playing, and he felt like all the air had been knocked out of his lungs.

“Oh _shit_ ” Daniel cursed, eyes impossibly wide as he also realized exactly what was happening.

It was a riff that Pierre would’ve been able to play in his sleep, because he had heard it so many times before, even if it felt like that had happened a lifetime ago.

“ _What'll you do when you get lonely_ _, and nobody's waiting by your side?_ _”_

One thing was different though, because they’d never heard it accompanied by lyrics before. The vocalist had a gorgeous raspy voice, but even then, Pierre couldn’t bring himself to properly appreciate the sound.

“ _You've been running and hiding much too long, you know it's just your foolish pride_ ”

“Pierre come on, let’s get out of here” Daniel yelled over the music, but it was to no avail, since the Frenchman found himself rooted to the spot.

And Alex must have filled George in on what was happening, because the Brit was instantly at his other side, gently tugging at his elbow “Pierre let’s just go –“

But then the unthinkable happened, and the vocalist’s voice was replaced by a much smoother one. A voice that to this day haunted Pierre’s dreams.

“ _I tried to give you consolation, when your old man had let you down_

 _Like a fool, I fell in love with you. You turned my whole world upside down_ ”

The difference between the two men’s voices was monumental. Because while the vocalist sang beautifully, the guitarist sang the words like he meant them, every syllable filled with so much feeling that Pierre felt like an invisible dagger was being ran further and further into his heart with each one that left his lips.

“ _Layla, you’ve got me on my knees_ ”

Pierre snapped out of his daze like he’d been slapped, and he harshly shrugged George’s hand off before turning on his heel and starting to push his way through the crowd, ignoring his friends calling his name.

Memories he’d tried so hard to repress were suddenly rushing to the forefront of his mind, violently enough that Pierre felt like he was going to hyperventilate any second.

He remembered harsh words thrown around on a cold winter morning, he remembered frantic pleas that he’d vehemently ignored, he remembered the pain that slashed through his heart when he looked over his shoulder one last time and saw him kneeling on the hard wooden floor.

“ _Layla, I’m begging darling please_ ”

Somehow, he managed to reach the exit in record time, all but throwing himself out the door and doubling over to try and catch his breath, his hands resting over his knees as he tried with all his might to calm his racing heart.

“ _Layla, darling won’t you ease my worried mind?_ ”

Pierre shut his eyes tightly, almost as if by doing so he could drown out the voice that he could still hear as clear as day.

It was like fate was trying to play a sick joke on him then, because when he opened his eyes, he came face to face with a discarded poster that was laying on the floor.

He picked it up with shaky hands, eyes trailing over the band’s logo, followed by its members’ names in bold blue letters.

Lance Stroll.

Elena Berri.

Charles Leclerc.

… and Esteban Ocon.

Pierre doubled back over, and promptly threw up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The drama has officially started. 
> 
> I hope you guys liked this chapter, and if you did please remember to leave comments and/or kudos and also to go find me in tumblr at @lewixco if you want to! 💛


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone I'm back with chapter 3! It somehow got to be around 4,000 words long so I hope you guys don't mind the length 🤍
> 
> There's a glimpse to Pierre and Esteban's backstory, and I promise they'll finally interact in the next chapter and I'll introduce some other important characters 👀
> 
> The songs used/mentioned in this chapter are: In Dreams by Roy Orbinson, Wish You Were here by Pink Floyd, When the Levee Breaks by Led Zeppelin, and Dream On by Aerosmith (specifically this performance: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jm43vHylgcs)
> 
> (Also, the outfits I describe for the band are inspired by this Queen photoshoot, in case ya'll want a visual reference: https://queenphotos.wordpress.com/2013/11/30/queen-1973-5/queen-1973-5/)

“Oh thank God”

Pierre shivered as a warm hand came to rest on the small of his back, still hunched over and staring at the insides of his stomach that were now splattered across the asphalt.

He crumpled the poster he’d been holding on his hands, until it was nothing but a balled-up piece of paper instead of the thing that had almost sent him into a panic attack.

“Come on sweetheart, you’re okay” Daniel murmured, helping him straighten back up and slipping a strong arm around his waist so that he could support nearly all of Pierre’s bodyweight.

There was something about Dan’s presence that always had the power to calm him down, no matter how terrible he was feeling. It probably had something to do with the fact that the Australian had been there for him during what they only referred to as the dark days, a time so awful that they would both rather forget.

They never would be able to, but they sure as hell tried.

“Pierre I’m so sorry man,” George stepper forward, face filled with worry “I had no idea he’d be here I swear”

Pierre shut his eyes tightly, as if by doing so he could calm down his heart rate through sheer force of will “I know, it’s fine – I’m fine”

His four friends shared a disbelieving look at that, clearly not buying it for a second.

“I think we should just go back to the hotel” Alex suggested, concern seeping through his words even if he tried to appear calm.

The Frenchman shook his head, blinking his eyes open “No, we can still go out if you guys want, I told you I’m fine”

“Absolutely _not_ ” Daniel bit out, the clipped tone of his voice leaving no room for argument.

And if it was any other day, Pierre would have probably argued against that, he would have probably told him that he could do as he damn well pleased.

But right now, he understood why Daniel would so adamantly oppose him being around any type of easily abused substance.

“Okay” Pierre relented, and he wasn’t even mad about immediately being led to a cab that Nicky had already hailed for them even before he had agreed.

When they arrived back at the Ritz, Pierre had to spend five minutes assuring George that he would be fine, that he didn’t need all of them to coddle him and that he could go sleep in his own room that he shared with Nicky.

The guitarist was skeptic, but Alex and Dan assured him that they would keep an eye on him.

And again, if it was any other day, Pierre would have felt insulted by his bandmates treating him like a child. But the exhaustion he felt creeping up his bones didn’t even leave him with enough energy to feel indignation.

So instead, he allowed the two men to fuss over him, drinking all the glasses of water they brought over to him and all but tucking him into bed when he was done, leaving him in the middle while they flanked his sides.

There were two king-sized beds in their suite, but neither men even thought about pointing that out.

* * *

_It was a bright summer day in Évreux, the sun just beginning to set in the sky, and the last of its rays casting a pleasant warmth over the city._

_Two young men were laying on top a bed much too small to fit both of them, but they didn’t seem to mind, instead tangling their legs together so that they wouldn’t fall off the worn mattress._

_“Have you told your parents about London?” the shorter one asked, tracing lazy circles over the other’s naked chest as he rested his chin on top of his hand._

_“Not yet, but it’s not like they can say no”_

_“I guess you’re right, but they’ll be mad if you tell them at the last minute”_

_“I know Pierre,” he sighed, letting his head fall back to rest on the headboard “but you know they don’t like the idea of us not going to uni, they’re still hoping we’ll change our minds”_

_“We’ll prove them wrong Este, you know we will”_

_Esteban smiled softly, running a gentle hand through Pierre’s fluffy, mussed up hair._

_“I know. If anyone was born to be a star, it’s you”_

_Pierre propped himself up on his elbows, leaning forward to press a kiss on his boyfriend’s lips._

_“It’s us, babe. Both of us”_

_“Always” Esteban agreed, tilting Pierre’s face back up to recapture his lips in his._

_The record that had been filling the room with music came to a stop then, and Este pulled back from the kiss to remind him that it was his turn to flip it._

_Pierre huffed, but still stood up from the bed and went to change the vinyl to its side B and let the needle drop back down._

_Esteban groaned when the first notes started playing, making his boyfriend roll his eyes at his dramatic ways._

_“That song is so cheesy”_

_“It is, but it’s also great”_

_Este looked unconvinced, so Pierre walked back to the bed and pulled him up to his feet, placing a hand over his waist and another on his shoulder as he started swaying them to the rhythm of the music._

_“In dreams I walk with you, in dreams I talk to you” Pierre sang along in time with Roy Orbinson’s voice, trying to imitate his crooning and making Este laugh at the admittedly pretty spot-on impression._

_“In dreams you’re mine, all the time. We’re together in dreams, in dreams”_

_The idyllic scene suddenly faded away, the sun-drenched room replaced by a warehouse turned into a bar, filled with what seemed like hundreds of sweaty bodies that he couldn’t begin to put a face on._

_Pierre looked around him with confusion, trying to make sense of what was going on around him but feeling as though fog had taken over his mind._

_All he knew was that he had been filled with a sense of urgency, something in his subconscious telling him to keep moving forward, to reach his destination before it was too late._

_His limbs felt heavy as he tried to push his way through the sea of people, the desperation in him rising with every second that passed._

_The exit seemed to be nearer yet further away with each step that he took, until he surged forward and finally crossed through the open door and into the coldness of the night, the winter air feeling like a slap to the face after the suffocating heat of the warehouse._

_His eyes darted around madly, not knowing exactly what he was looking for but still knowing he had to find it._

_And he did._

_Esteban looked up at him, face paler than he’d ever seen it, his whole body shaking with something that had nothing to do with the cold breeze._

_“Pierre… Pierre I’m so sorry”_

_But Pierre wasn’t even listening to him anymore, his attention firmly focused on the person Esteban was kneeling next to._

_Pierre had seen Nicolas grow up, he knew his face like the back of his hand, he could’ve been able to recognize him from a mile away._

_But he’d never seen his eyes look so empty._

* * *

Pierre woke up with a start, body darting up from the bed with a silent scream caught on his throat.

His chest was heaving as though he’d just ran a marathon, and he could feel sweat pooling on his back even though the temperature inside the room couldn’t have been more than 25 degrees.

He let out a shaky breath, burying his face in his hands and cursing silently when he felt tears running down his face, wiping them away furiously.

It had been years since he’d dreamed about that day, but it figures that he would now.

After taking a few deep breaths he managed to stop feeling as though he was about to hyperventilate, and it was only then that he realized that he’d woken up alone on the bed.

And as if he could read his thoughts – which Pierre had to admit, sometimes it felt like he could – Daniel chose that moment to walk back into the room.

“Morning Pear” he greeted with an easy smile on his face, but Pierre had known him long enough that he could notice the slight wariness behind it “I was just about to wake you, breakfast is here”

“Thanks Dan but I’m not really hungry” Pierre answered, even though his stomach had growled interestedly at the prospect of food. He hadn’t eaten anything since before the show last night, and even then, he had emptied the contents of his stomach not much later.

But whenever he was feeling as anxious as he currently was, the mere thought of food was enough to make him queasy.

“You have to eat something anyways mate, we don’t want a repeat of what happened in Oslo”

Pierre grimaced, remembering all too well how his head had been sore for days after blacking out during a show and falling off the stage. Definitely not one of his finest moments.

He also knew that trying to argue with Dan about this would be a losing battle, so he nodded reluctantly “Fine, I guess I could stomach some toast”

And really, Dan’s answering beam almost made it worth it.

The rest of the guys were already helping themselves to the wide array of foods that the kitchen had sent up to the suite, which Pierre thought was slightly over the top considering the fact that there was only five of them.

Alex, George and Nicky greeted him as they usually would, but as with Dan, he knew them well enough to notice that they seemed to be walking on eggshells around him.

“So, what’s the schedule for today?” he asked, making a point of filling up his plate with toast and two boiled eggs to hopefully ease his friends’ minds a little.

Nicky easily slipped into the role of their manager, explaining how they had a photoshoot scheduled at noon, followed by an interview for a local magazine at 2, soundcheck at 4, and finally the show at 8.

Although they only had two events to fill up the time before the concert, they knew from experience that those would easily keep them busy for the whole day. Punctuality wasn’t something that mattered that much in their world, and they had grown accustomed to just going with the flow.

The photoshoot took place in front of more “alternative” Parisian landmarks like the Moulin Rouge and even some metro stations, but they were lucky enough to not be noticed by any crazed fans and things went surprisingly smoothly.

They had even gotten to pick out their clothes, and this time they even tried to pick similar enough outfits that would make them seem like a unit instead of four mismatched individuals.

George had opted for a tight black long-sleeved shirt that had a wide V-neck and rhinestones tastefully adorning the sleeves, a pair of white gloves and platforms, and a silver choker. Alex had put on a striped black and white tank top under a simple black blazer that had a flower sticking from its breast pocket, and he’d allowed George to tie a big black bow around his neck.

Daniel had also gone for a tank top, except that it was plain black and paired with a flowy black kimono that had golden accents along the shoulders, but he’d made up for its simplicity by wearing a big white princess necklace that he insisted was very art-deco.

And they wouldn’t be Velvet Goldmine without at least one of them deciding to go shirtless, so Pierre took one for the team and only slipped on a very pretty black jacket with embroidered white flowers, the cut of the fabric making it, so his chest was visible at all times.

The lady in charge of the shoot seemed to absolutely love the outfits, so they decided to keep them on for the show. After a few hours the tight leather pants they were all wearing did get slightly uncomfortable, but they managed to pull through.

In the end, the cameraman was happy enough to let them fool around the different locations and take “candid” shots of the group, obviously wanting to capture their natural personalities instead of forcing them into ridiculous poses.

Everything was casual enough that Pierre managed to keep the events of last night in the back of his mind, but unfortunately, all of that went to shit during their interview.

With his track record, perhaps he should have known.

The interviewer was this young-ish man who Nicky told them had already interviewed them once before, which was something they all preferred whenever it was possible, since it was a lot easier to enjoy interviews when they were sure that they wouldn’t get asked uncomfortable questions.

It started much like any other interview, with the man asking them if they were excited to be playing the Pavillon again (yes), if they had been enjoying their time in the city (yes), if Pierre was thrilled to be playing for his “home crowd” (yes, very much so), and if it was true that they had written their latest album in 24 hours while holed up in a country house with George Harrison as they were all out of their minds on psychedelic mushrooms (no comment).

Pierre had been lulled into a false sense of security by all the standard questions, so when the offending question came, he was caught completely off guard.

“Okay so, before you go, can I ask your thoughts on the new rising band that goes by the name of Electric Blue? They played a sold out show at the Zenith last night, much like you guys did back in ‘68”

The Frenchman nearly started choking on his own saliva at that, and he felt dread crawling up his chest when the interviewer quirked an interested eyebrow. And wasn’t that a reminder that no matter how harmless journalists looked, they could smell blood faster than any shark ever could.

Thankfully, Alex swooped in to save the day “We haven’t heard much from them, but I think I speak for all of us when I say they have some pretty good stuff”

“Totally,” George quickly agreed “we’re always thrilled to have new faces in the scene, so all the best to them”

Alex discreetly took Pierre’s hand in his, the younger man squeezing it gratefully.

The interviewer turned expecting eyes towards Pierre and Dan, but when the silence stretched just a little too long, he cleared his throat and moved on, albeit looking kinda disappointed that he hadn’t gotten an answer from the lead singer.

Nicky instructed the man to wrap things up not long after that, and Pierre barely stuck around to shake his hand in goodbye before bolting out of the nearest exit, wasting no time in lighting up a cigarette, the way the smoke filled up his lungs before coming back out his mouth serving to ease some of his anxiety.

George joined him on the sidewalk soon enough, snatching a cigarette from Pierre’s open pack and lighting it up with the one that was dangling from the Frenchman’s lips.

“You’ll talk to us if things get too much to handle, right?”

It was very much like George to go straight to the point, never bothering to sugarcoat his words when they had to do with a serious matter.

Pierre took a long drag of the smoke, exhaling as slowly as he could manage.

“I will”

The Brit didn’t look entirely convinced “Promise me, Pierre. Promise me you won’t let it get as bad as it did last time”

“I promise, Georgie”

He knew it was immature to do so, but Pierre still crossed the fingers of his left hand behind his back before answering, and it did help to ease his conscience.

* * *

“If you keep moving, I’ll stab you in the eyeball”

Pierre didn’t know if George meant for that to be a warning or a threat, so he did his best to keep perfectly still even when the corners of his mouth twitched up into an amused smile.

George’s tongue was poking out in concentration, his skilled fingers carefully drawing a perfect black line on Pierre’s already bright blue eyelids.

The guitarist was the only one who he trusted to do his makeup, since he had actually nearly lost an eye the one time he had let Alex and Daniel have a shot.

Meanwhile Dan was preparing his infamous pre-show drinks, a concoction so bizarre that even Keith Richards had pulled a face the one time he’d tried them.

Although that might have had to do with the fact that Dan had somehow convinced him to drink it out of his shoe.

“There, all done”

Pierre turned to face himself in the mirror, and as always, he was pleasantly surprised by how good George was at bringing out his best features.

Alex gave a low whistle as he entered the dressing room and caught sight of Pierre, laughing when he got the finger in response and plopping down in the chair next to him.

He had also allowed George to do his makeup, his brown eyes popping with the pink eyeshadow he’d chosen and his cheekbones looking sharp enough to cut a man thanks to the deep contour.

Daniel had once again opted for glitter, and it was an honest to god miracle that he hadn’t gone blind yet from getting the sparkly stuff into his eyes.

“Are we changing anything on the setlist?”

“Um, is it alright if we take out Wish You Were Here? Just for tonight?”

Pierre tried to aim for nonchalance, but he didn’t know why he even bothered, since his bandmates could always read him like a book.

“Yeah, of course we can” Alex replied with a soft smile, reaching forward give a reassuring squeeze to the singer’s knee.

“Alright mates drink up” Daniel piped up, handing all of them small glasses filled to the brim with a bright blue liquid.

No one other than Dan knew what those drinks contained, and at this point they were too afraid to ask.

“What are we drinking to tonight?”

It was silent for a second as the four men thought it over.

“How about to pulling through?” Alex asked, looking at Pierre with a meaningful stare.

The Frenchman nodded “To pulling through”

“To pulling through”

With that, they shot back their drinks, all of them barely grimacing at the strong alcoholic taste.

After that they finally made their way to the stage, but not before George gave a good luck kiss to Nicholas.

They were a bunch of superstitious bastards after all.

Walking out and into a full stadium would never get old, especially when the crowd recognized them and started going wild.

The people on the first rows even threw different types of flowers to the stage, and Pierre caught a perfectly aimed red rose on his right hand.

“ _Bonne soirée Paris!”_

It only took those three words for the noise to raise to unbelievable levels, and Pierre grinned, making a show of bringing the rose up to his nose to appreciate the sweet scent before throwing it back into the crowd, unable to stop a laugh from bubbling out of his chest as more than fifteen people all but launched themselves towards the flower.

“ _Amusons-nous, oui?”_

Alex took that as his cue to start banging on his drums, George quickly joining in and playing the first notes of When the Levee Breaks.

Something Pierre absolutely loved about playing music was how easy it was to get lost in it, almost as if his mind left to another place away from Earth, and all of his problems became inconsequential for a couple of hours.

The Parisian audience helped with that, since every single person in attendance seemed to know all the words to all of their songs, so much so that sometimes they couldn’t even hear themselves over the singing of the crowd.

One of those times Pierre caught Dan’s eye and the two grinned madly at each other, still amazed to hear their lyrics sang back to them.

During a short lull between songs Pierre took the chance to drink a few gulps of water, knowing that for this next song he was going to need it.

He knew that he had a vocal range some people would literally kill for, but people underestimated the strain that it put in his throat to constantly reach the notes he did.

This next riff was one of Pierre’s favourites, and he remembered how the words had easily flowed out of him when George played it for him for the first time.

It was slightly melancholic, a feel to the melody that made it so it sat heavy on your heart.

And the words only made it feel heavier.

“ _Every time when I look in the mirror, all these lines on my face getting clearer._

 _The past is gone, and it went by like dusk to dawn_ ”

An unwanted image of that sunny room he’d dreamed of flashed in his mind, and he discreetly shook his head to get rid of it.

“ _Isn’t that the way? Everybody’s got their dues in life to pay_ ”

The drums got louder and louder, sweat dripping from Alex’s neck and making his tan skin glisten under the stage lights.

“ _I know nobody knows, where it comes and where it goes._

 _I know it’s everybody’s sin, you got to lose to know how to win_ ”

Pierre walked over to Daniel, and he immediately turned his body so they could press their backs together, the bassist letting his head drop back and his eyes fall shut, but still playing every note perfectly.

“ _Half my life’s in books, written pages_

_Live and learn from fools and from sages_

_You know it’s true,_

_All the things come back to you_ ”

Another intrusive image hit him after that verse, but this time it was of Esteban’s terrified face, the dark tear tracks running from his eyes a stark contrast to his pale skin.

It was so vivid that Pierre had to press himself harder to Dan’s back so that the firmness of his body could keep him grounded.

“ _Sing with me, sing for the year_

_Sing for the laughter and sing for the tear_

_Sing with me, it’s just for today_

_Maybe tomorrow, the good Lord will take you away_ ”

Now, he saw a flash of lifeless blue eyes, and it was like a stab to his heart, one strong enough to make his legs grow weak.

He dropped to his knees, Daniel following after him only a millisecond later.

“ _Dream on, dream on, dream on_

 _Dream until your dreams come true_ ”

He poured every ounce of the pain he was feeling into his voice, as he always did, trying with all his might to dispose of it along with the words that left his mouth.

“ _Dream on, dream on, dream on -_ “ Pierre sang last syllable in as high a note as he could reach, drawing it out for so long that in the end he was practically screaming.

His ears were ringing with the sheer loudness of the crowd as the song came to an end, but he could just stay right where he was kneeling, his lungs burning from the exertion he’d just put them through.

Before long, George was pulling Pierre up to his feet, and wiping his sweaty hair away from his forehead.

“Are you okay?” he mouthed, or perhaps he had screamed it, and Pierre just couldn’t hear it over all the noise.

He nodded tiredly, but still accepted the water bottle George passed him, taking a couple of sips and also pouring some over his head.

The guitarist patted his back before going back to his side of the stage, starting what would thankfully be the last song of the night.

Pierre also went back to stand behind the microphone stand, and turned to look at the side of the stage absentmindedly.

He did a double take when he thought he saw Esteban’s face between the many members of the crew and some of their guests, but he shrugged it off as his mind once again playing tricks on him.

There was no way Esteban would ever willingly come to one of their shows, and Pierre hoped it stayed that way now that his new band was rising to fame.

Pierre had made sure that the younger man would never want anything to do with him. He’d made his choices, and he could live with them.

And even if he didn’t, he didn’t have any other choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dream On always hits different.
> 
> Anyways, I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter and if you did please remember to leave kudos and/or comments, I'd really love to hear what you guys are thinking thus far, it's always nice to hear from you! And also, don't forget you can come find me on tumblr at @lewixco.
> 
> Until next time! 💛


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone I'm back with another chapter, and this one is nearly 6.5k words long so be prepared. 
> 
> The songs mentioned/used in this chapter are: Pale Blue Eyes by The Velvet Underground, Immigrant Song by Led Zeppelin, Purple Haze by Jimi Hendrix, You Really Got Me by Van Halen, and Love of My Life, Sheer Heart Attack, Don't Stop Me Now and Under Pressure by Queen. 
> 
> (And yes, Under Pressure did come out in 1980 but it was written in 1979 so I'm giving myself a free pass thanks to that technicality)

There was something about music festivals that made them feel almost like a short vacation to musicians.

Maybe it was because the attention and therefore the expectations were divided almost evenly amongst every act, so you didn’t have to worry too much about fucking up. Or maybe it was because you got the chance to meet up with some of your friends for nearly all day while only having to do a show for an hour or so.

Which was why, when the organizers of Isle of Wight asked them if they wanted to headline this year’s edition alongside Roxy Music and Silver Arrow, of course they said yes.

Now though, Pierre was regretting every single one of his life choices.

“How the _fuck_ did they even get on the bill?”

Nicky sighed, looking sincerely apologetic “Well, Roxy only cancelled yesterday, so everything had to get moved around. You guys are taking their time slot, Purple Haze are taking yours and so on, and they had to fill up the remaining one”

“But why _them_?” Daniel asked, and Pierre didn’t know whether to feel amused or touched by how he was as offended as he was, even if it was only on principle.

“That I couldn’t tell you”

“I mean, sorry to be the one who has to say this but maybe it’s because they’re… good?” George shrunk on his seat at the intensity of the glare Pierre shot him, putting his hands up in surrender “I’m just saying!”

“No, you’re right – and don’t look at me like that Pierre you know it’s true” Alex rolled his eyes, not fazed at all by the Frenchman’s death stare.

The two engaged in a staring battle for a full thirty seconds before Pierre relented, dropping back against the couch he was sitting on with a huff.

“Fucking hell, _fine_ , I know you guys are right. I just wish I could’ve had a head’s up, they’re probably in this hotel right now and I had no idea”

“I mean, at least we found out before actually getting to the festival” Daniel tried to console, always being one to try and look at the brighter side of things.

Pierre supposed he was right, he didn’t think his heart could take another surprise like the one in Paris.

The second they had stepped foot into the same hotel they stayed at whenever they played at the island – which, to be fair, was the same hotel every band stayed at – the receptionist had given Nicky a memo sent to them by the organizers, in which they politely informed them there had been a last-minute change to the lineup and now Electric Blue were also playing the festival.

And Pierre wasn’t anything if not a professional, logically, he knew that with how fast Electric Blue were apparently rising it wouldn’t be long before they inevitably ran in the same circles, they were bound to run into each other at some point.

He’d just hoped it would be later rather than sooner.

“Yeah, and there’s always a ton of people backstage anyways, maybe we won’t even run into them” George piped in, forcing a smile that even a blind man could tell was fake.

Still, Pierre appreciated the thought.

* * *

Even though Velvet Goldmine were now the second to last band scheduled to play, Nicky still made them get there before five even if their set wasn’t until eight.

Isle of Wight might be a relatively small island, but the festival was huge, so they knew that if they tried to get there later it would probably be a lot harder to navigate the traffic and the masses that always travelled to the show.

Usually none of them minded, since it was a good opportunity to listen to artists that maybe they never had before, or they could catch up with the ones they hadn’t seen in a long time.

But now, Pierre couldn’t help but feel like a walking stress knot as they arrived at the venue.

His eyes were darting madly around the place, trying to catch sight of Esteban or one of his mysterious bandmates.

He had absolutely no clue what he’d even say if they were forced to interact with each other. He’d probably turn on his heel and walk away as fast as he could, if he was being perfectly honest.

“Guys! It’s so good to finally see you again!”

The very familiar voice snapped Pierre out of his anxiety ridden thoughts, and his lips stretched into a delighted smile when he saw the man who was walking towards them.

Lewis Hamilton was quite possibly the most handsome man Pierre had ever met, and in his line of work, that was saying a lot. He was wearing a beige collared shirt with an intricate pattern of what looked like golden and dark red garlands that paired nicely with his white flared pants, which were perfectly tailored, of course.

And other than his impeccable fashion sense, he was also ridiculously talented, to the point that people were already calling him the best musician of their age even though he wasn’t even 35 years old yet.

“Lewis, hey man!” Daniel chirped, immediately wrapping his arms around older man in a fierce hug that Lewis was more than happy to return.

Because apart from his talent and beauty, he also happened to be the nicest man that had ever walked this earth.

God really did pick his favorites.

Lewis then stopped right in front of Pierre and put his hands on his shoulders, looking at him with that same proud look he always got whenever they saw each other.

“Pierre” he beamed, his brown eyes crinkling because of how wide his smile had gotten “you look incredible man”

“Thanks Lew, not as good as you though”

Before Lewis could answer a new person materialized by their side, ruffling Pierre’s hair affectionately and wrapping an arm around the Brit’s waist.

“To be fair, no one ever could”

Nico Rosberg looked as immaculate as always, wearing a black dress shirt covered in white polka dots under an elegant black suit that fit him too well to be anything but custom made, and he finished off the look with heeled white boots that made him stand nearly half a head taller than Lewis.

Pierre was very glad to see that the two men were still as in love as the last time he’d seen them. If it wasn’t obvious solely by how they were making googly eyes at each other, then the matching silver bands in their left hands would be a dead giveaway.

“Hey Nico,” Pierre greeted, subtly trying to fix his hair “how’s it been to be back on the road?”

“It’s actually been pretty great, but we did just finish the North American leg though, so it is quite nice to be back home”

Lewis nodded “Thankfully we have some time off after this show before we have to leave for Japan, and then we’re coming back to Europe to close off the tour”

“Japan huh?" Daniel whistled appreciatively "That’s incredible guys, congratulations”

As famous as Velvet Goldmine had gotten during the past few years, they still had a long way to go to achieve what Silver Arrow had.

All of them had idolized the band long before they got the chance to meet them, and virtually every group looked up to them as an inspiration.

Lewis and Nico had started the group after practically growing up together in England, and Jenson Button had joined them not long after they met him in high school. The three had gotten picked up by the famous producer Toto Wolff, who had seen them play at some dingy bar in Manchester and immediately told Niki Lauda about them.

It was well known in the industry that if you got picked up by Niki Lauda, you were practically assured to make it, and they definitely hadn’t been the exception. In fact, they had been the most successful band to ever be signed by Lauda Records.

Lewis, Nico and Jenson obviously dropped out of their senior year and followed Toto to Germany so they could get some hands-on experience, spending nearly every single night for three months playing in different clubs around the country, and it was during one of those nights that they had met Sebastian Vettel.

And the rest, as they say, was history.

“Hey Dan, little Pierre, nice to see you again lads” Jenson chirped as he all but bounced over to them, also ruffling Pierre’s hair and making the Frenchman huff. He was sure they did it on purpose.

“You too Jense, where’s your better half?”

“Pierre, Dan!”

As if he’d been summoned, Sebastian Vettel appeared from seemingly out of nowhere, looking as relaxed as he usually did and thankfully not getting anywhere near Pierre’s hair.

“Hi Seb” the two bandmates chorused, laughing when the German pulled both of them in for a quick hug.

It was very nice to see all four men looking so happy to be around each other, especially when you considered that they had taken a two-year long hiatus not that long ago because of how tense things had gotten between all of them.

Pierre wasn’t sure and he would never ask, but he was pretty sure they had all dated each other at some point, and it goes without saying that the drama that unfolded because of it was one for the history books.

In his personal opinion, he’d always known Lewis and Nico belonged together just as much as Jenson and Sebastian did, no matter how petty they could be with each other.

Neither man had been a saint when it came to their multiple breakups, but Pierre had to admit that it _had_ been a major dick move when Lewis wrote Pale Blue Eyes and effectively made it so Nico would have to play a song about how much of an asshole he was at least three times a week.

He had written Love of My Life to make up for it though – one of the most beautiful love songs of all time – and now they always sang it as a duet, which would be sickeningly sweet if it wasn’t so adorable.

And Pierre rarely got involved in other band’s drama, but the thing with Silver Arrow was that, even if Velvet Goldmine hadn’t been discovered by them, sometimes it almost felt like they had. More often than not, they wished they actually had.

He would’ve loved for them to have been signed by Lauda Records rather than RB Records, but at the time it didn’t seem like they had much of a choice, and they’d been entirely too eager to sign a contract to wait for any other offer apart from the one they got from their current label.

But in many ways, they wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for the four older men standing in front of them.

They had all been extremely helpful while they were just starting out, and Pierre genuinely thought he wouldn’t still be alive if it wasn’t for them. Because when Pierre told anyone that Lewis Hamilton had saved his life, many thought it was just him being hyperbolic, but there was a handful of people that knew that he wasn’t being anything but literal.

Lewis hated when Pierre told him that he’d never been able to repay him for what he’d done for him, and he preferred to not even mention all the things that had happened in the past. However, he’d never lost the habit of regularly checking up on Pierre and the rest of the band, no matter how much time had passed since those days.

“Quite a shame Roxy had to pull out, no? I haven’t seen them in months” Daniel commented, and Pierre immediately tensed as he was harshly reminded of why he’d been so worried earlier.

“Yeah neither have we, but it’s cool that Electric Blue will sub in for them. They’re good kids, they definitely deserve it” Nico answered nonchalantly, making Dan and Pierre instantly share a look.

“Wait, you guys know them?”

“Know them? We’re the reason Niki signed them” Sebastian grinned “They went to see us play about eight months ago and somehow managed to sneak backstage, all but demanding we let them play something for us”

Ah, so that explained how they had grown so quickly.

Jenson snorted, shaking his head in amusement at the memory “And then they proceeded to play _us_ a cover of Sheer Heart Attack, which was a pretty ballsy move, you guys know how hard it is to play that song”

Despite himself, Pierre couldn’t help but feel reluctantly impressed. He didn’t know if he’d been able to have an impromptu audition in front of one of the most famous bands in the world _and_ play them a cover of one of their own songs.

“We were sold the second Elena started playing the drums to be honest, but they’re all crazy talented”

And Pierre couldn’t really judge their talent based off having listened to them playing less than half a song, but he had to admit that what he’d heard had been pretty good. Also, if Lewis Hamilton said they were crazy talented, then there was no doubt they were.

Just then Nico seemed to catch sight of something over Pierre’s shoulder, or rather someone, since he gave a quick wave.

“Oh look, there they are. Want us to introduce you?”

Pierre felt himself go pale, his brain both seeming to stop working and simultaneously go into overdrive.

Fortunately, everyone but Dan was too busy looking at the new arrivals to notice how panicked he’d gotten, and as he quickly scanned the room to find literally any possible way out, he came up with a plan.

“Marta! I’m so sorry guys but Marta’s calling me over I’ll, uh, I’ll see you guys later bye!”

He didn’t give them a chance to reply before nearly shoving past Sebastian and Jenson and high tailing it over to the aforementioned girl, not caring at all that he’d just taken the coward’s way out.

He knew he’d have to face him eventually, but he’d be damned if he didn’t delay that meeting as much as he could.

“Marta, hey! How are you doing?” Pierre greeted loudly, the girl quirking an unimpressed eyebrow at him.

“Uh, hey Pierre” she acknowledged, her slightly accented voice making her sound even more judgmental “have you taken something already? It’s like six man, come on”

Pierre would’ve felt offended, but he had to admit that he did look a little sketchy.

“Not at all, I’m just happy to see a fellow singer. Want to go get a drink?”

Marta looked even more unimpressed after that “You better not be hitting on me Gasly or I’ll get Belén to go after your ass”

Pierre darted his eyes back towards where he’d been standing for a second, and the panic increased tenfold when he saw the bassist (Lance, if he remembered correctly) looking straight towards him.

“You know I wouldn’t dare, and your sister scares me, just – please?”

The blonde made him sweat for a few more seconds before sighing reluctantly “Fine, lead the way”

“Great!”

With that, Pierre wasted no time before spinning her around and practically making them speed walk towards the open bar.

* * *

After assuring Marta, Belén, Jamie and Tatiana that he genuinely had no ulterior motives for wanting to spend time with them (at least not any that would affect them), they easily accepted Pierre at their assigned dressing room.

And it wasn’t that the girls didn’t like him, they were just rightfully wary of any man that approached them. Pierre obviously couldn’t fully relate to their experience, but he knew enough about how musicians were that he could kind of imagine it.

It couldn’t be easy to be an all-girl band amidst a mostly male dominated scene, and Pierre genuinely admired them for having gotten to where they were.

Velvet Goldmine had been very vocally supportive of them ever since they had started up, and it wasn’t just because they thought that rock needed more women, but also because they _were_ incredible musicians.

Sergio Pérez (famous ex-singer turned producer) had sort of taken Marta and Belén as his protégés when they were sixteen and seventeen respectively, and that was probably the best thing that could’ve happened to them, because the Mexican man was one of the most trustworthy people in the industry.

Unfortunately, there were not many people that would take the risk of funding the career of female musicians, but Checo had, and it had definitely paid off.

Because when he found Jamie Chadwick and Tatiana Calderón and decided to pair them with the García sisters and create the band known as Purple Haze, it was like he struck gold.

Marta’s voice, Belén’s guitar skills, Jamie’s drumming and Tatiana’s bass lines were more than impressive individually – but when they came together, they reached a whole other level.

Their sound was incredible, mixing hard rock with soft rock but also with marked Hispanic influences that set them apart from any other band in the industry.

Velvet Goldmine had even done a double billed show with them way back when neither of their bands was big enough to fill venues on their own, and Pierre had always had the suspicion that the audience had been more impressed by Purple Haze than by them, even if he’d never admit it out loud.

And he liked to think that he was good friends with the girls, even if Marta had been suspicious of his intentions earlier.

The girls had spoken in rapid Spanish for a few minutes after he’d entered the room with their singer, and even though he didn’t speak the language, he didn’t need to to know they were talking about him.

Apparently, he’d passed their examination, and after proving his worth by acting as their personal waiter and bringing them all margaritas, they were now having an impromptu jam session in the tiny room.

“So, what brings you to our room Frenchie? Lover’s quarrel?” Tatiana teased, all the while playing what Pierre recognized to be the bass line of You Really Got Me.

“I don’t have a lover, so no”

Marta cocked her head to the side, furrowing her brows “Weren’t you dating tall, dark and handsome?”

“You’re gonna have to be more specific than that, I know at least fifteen different people who meet that criteria”

“Your drummer” Belén helpfully supplied, even if she couldn’t look less interested in their conversation.

“Alex?” Pierre blinked slowly, unable to tell if they were kidding or not “No, not at all. What gave you that idea?”

“Well, he does stare at you a whole lot” Jamie interjected, twirling a drumstick around her fingers with a thoughtful look on her face.

“He does not!” Pierre argued, cursing internally when he felt his cheeks heat up.

Marta smirked “Oh no he definitely does”

“Does not”

“Does too”

“Does _not_ ”

“Alright kids break it up,” Belén spoke up, not bothering to tear her eyes away from the guitar she was tuning “Pierre why don’t we stop talking about your not-boyfriend and instead you go get us some more of those lovely margaritas?”

“Gladly” he grumbled, jumping at the chance to get out of this conversation.

“Make mine with extra ice!” Tatiana called out as he shut the door, and Pierre was so focused on remembering how everyone liked their drinks that he didn’t notice who was in front of him until it was too late and he was already colliding with a strong chest.

“Shit sorry I was - _oh_ ”

Although the impact hadn’t been that hard, Pierre still felt like all the air had been knocked out of his lungs when he tilted his head and came face to face with none other than a very shocked Esteban Ocon.

The two stared at each other in silence for what couldn’t have been more than a couple of seconds but felt like hours, and even if every fiber of his being was telling him to turn around and walk back into the room, Pierre couldn’t bring himself to move his feet.

Instead, his eyes were too busy roaming all over Esteban’s face.

When he’d seen him at the Zenith, Pierre had thought that he hadn’t changed at all from the seventeen-year-old boy he’d dated, but now that he had him so close he could see that wasn’t exactly true.

His cheekbones looked more pronounced for one, all the baby fat he’d had during his teenage years now entirely gone.

There were a few laugh lines around his eyes that definitely hadn’t been there before, and the sight of them sent an unexpected pang of longing through Pierre’s chest.

He knew everything had been his fault, that he’d effectively pushed Esteban away from his life, but for some infuriating reason it still hurt to know that he’d missed out on knowing all the reasons behind those lines.

“Hi, you’re Pierre Gasly, right? From Velvet Goldmine?”

The unfamiliar voice was what snapped them both out of their trance, and only then did Pierre notice that Electric Blue’s bassist was standing next to Esteban.

“Um, yeah, I - yes. Yes I am”

If the man was at all weirded out by his stuttering, he didn’t show it, instead giving him a big toothy grin “I’m Lance Stroll, it’s great to meet you man I’m a big fan”

And Pierre tried his best to return the smile, but he knew it came out as more of a grimace.

“Thanks man, nice to meet you too”

“And this is -“

“Hello Pierre”

The familiar voice sent a shiver down Pierre’s spine, goosebumps rising over the skin of his arms at the sound.

At least that was something that hadn’t changed.

“Hello Esteban” Pierre croaked, unable to sound as stoic as the other man did.

Lance frowned, looking between the two of them curiously, as if he’d just now noticed the tension that was steadily building around them.

The silence that stretched after that simple exchange of words was deafening, and Pierre was wracking his brain trying to find something that would be appropriate to say.

“Lance, I think we better get going. We’re supposed to go perform soon”

Esteban tore his eyes away from Pierre to address his bassist, and he would be lying if he said he didn’t feel a little disappointed at that.

“Uhhh sure, it was nice to meet you Pierre”

Without so much as a goodbye, Esteban placed a hand on Lance’s back and turned him around, leading him towards the general direction of the stage.

“You didn’t tell me you knew _the_ Pierre Gasly” he heard Lance reproach as they walked away, and even through the noise of the band that was currently playing and the people milling around backstage, he could hear Esteban’s response as clear as day.

“That’s because I don’t”

And that truly shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did, but Pierre still felt as though a sharp knife had stabbed him right through the chest.

Esteban was telling the truth after all.

They didn’t know each other. At least not anymore.

* * *

Esteban refused to let anything ruin this experience for them.

It was practically unheard of for a band that was just starting up to be invited to play at Isle of Wight, which was why they had all jumped at the chance to fill up the time slot left vacant by Roxy Music, even if it wasn’t a very good one.

They had played for more than a few thousand people before, but never for 700,000.

So, he resolutely pushed his unexpected meeting with the past to the back of his mind, instead trying with all his might to get into that headspace he always did whenever they performed live.

Walking out into that enormous stage was without a doubt the most exhilarating thing he’d ever done, and by the way his bandmates were looking out into the sea of people with wonderment in their eyes, he knew they were thinking exactly the same thing.

Esteban turned to where Elena was sitting behind the drums, and with a quick nod of their heads they plowed into the first song of their set.

He couldn’t help the massive grin that stretched across his face as the crowd immediately started cheering and jumping around in sync to the fast beat.

“ _We come from the land of the ice and snow_

 _From the midnight sun where the hot springs flow_ ”

Charles’s voice joined with the instruments, the Monegasque’s pitch as naturally perfect as it always was.

“ _The hammer of the gods_

_Will drive our ships to new lands_

_To fight the horde, sing and cry_

_Valhalla, I am coming”_

They had picked Immigrant Song because it was the perfect song to showcase all of their talents in full force, what with the changes in intonation Charles had to power through, the fast pace of Elena’s drumming, the deep bass line Lance played that glued together the entire song, and the powerful riff of the guitar that Esteban never once let up on.

“ _On we sweep with threshing oar_

 _Our only goal will be the western shore_ ”

After that first song, Este knew they had the audience hooked, and he felt the same gratification he always did whenever they managed to entrance an audience like that.

The rest of their set went as smoothly as can be, and he felt immense pride filling his chest when he turned to the side of the stage at one point and saw Lewis giving him a thumb’s up while Nico bopped his head to the rhythm of the music _they_ were playing.

He still felt a little starstruck around them, so to see them enjoying their show felt like nothing short of a dream come true.

When their time was up Esteban felt as though he could’ve played for another two hours straight, the adrenaline making his blood thrum under his skin.

Dozens of unfamiliar people patted their backs as they left the stage, congratulating them on their show and extending invitations to some after party or other, but they were all so strung out that they might have been talking about the rules of cricket and not one of them would have noticed.

They collapsed on top of the uncomfortable couch when they went back into their very tiny dressing room, all of them grinning like maniacs as their chests kept heaving up and down as though they had just finished an Iron Man.

“That was incredible” Lance breathed out, his pupils blown wide and his cheeks flushed a deep shade of red.

“Do you think they’d let us do the set again?” Charles grinned, making them all laugh slightly hysterically even if it hadn’t been funny at all.

A knock on the door broke them out of their hysteria, and when Elena opened it it was to find a roadie standing there with two bottles of champagne that had been sent over by none other than Sebastian Vettel.

Even if Elena didn’t exactly squeal out loud, Esteban knew her well enough to see that she was freaking out internally.

“Well then," she beamed, popping one of the bottles and taking a couple of few gulps from the sweet alcohol "cheers boys"

They must have stayed sprawled like that for at least an hour, recounting their favorite moments of their set between sips of champagne, none of them caring that the alcohol had been getting progressively warmer.

Esteban’s post-show thrill had finally gone down a little, and unfortunately, as his head cleared up, he couldn’t help but think back to his meeting with Pierre, especially when Lance and Charles announced that they would be going over to see Velvet Goldmine’s set since, unfortunately, the two happened to be their biggest fanboys.

Elena shot him a worried look at that, and she was kind enough to stay back with him as their two bandmates just shrugged and left.

When he had finally gotten the guts to tell Elena about his tragic backstory (her words not his), she had been righteously livid on his behalf. She was the only one who knew the whole story, and it was only because he had let slip that he knew Pierre one night when they’d gone out drinking and one of Velvet Goldmine’s songs started playing.

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Lance or Charles, but he just preferred not to talk about it.

“Are you okay?” she asked softly, reaching forward to take one of his hands on her own, not caring that his hands were sticky with sweat.

“Yeah, of course. I was just thinking about changing up this one verse in The Seeker”

His attempts at deflection were useless when it came to Elena, but she only sighed and went along with the change in subject, for which Esteban was extremely grateful.

And that was just one of the many reasons that he loved her.

The two of them didn’t leave the room until they were certain that Velvet Goldmine’s set had ended, and Elena kept a firm hold of Esteban’s hand as she guided him over to the side stage so they could have a good view of Silver Arrow’s show.

But try as he might, Esteban couldn’t stop looking for Pierre.

He had managed to go nearly six years without thinking too much about him, no matter how hard it was when he had to hear his voice on the radio more often than he’d like to.

But now that he knew they were in the same building, it was as though his entire being was screaming at him to find him.

It was one thing to see how he’d changed through blurry photos in magazines and posters and advertisements, but it was a whole other thing to see him in the flesh.

A few years ago, Esteban had known his face and his body better than he knew his own, and it was fascinating watching him now that he was older, to notice all the big and small ways in which he had changed.

Which was very stupid of him, since he shouldn’t want anything to do with Pierre after everything that had happened.

Whenever he thought about that night, he couldn’t help but feel as though his heart was getting ripped out of his chest all over again, no matter how many times he told himself he was over it.

When he had told Elena about it, she had gone on and on about how he had every right to hate his guts, to never want anything to do with him again.

And Esteban did hate him.

In fact, for the next year or so after Pierre had left his life, he had wished he’d never met the man.

That anger had fizzled out slightly after that, but it had always been present, and it had been easy to maintain because Esteban never actually saw him.

But now? After staring into those blasted blue eyes for the first time in so long?

Something entirely too familiar had started burning in the pit of his stomach, and that fire was the last thing Esteban wanted to feel, which was why he had walked away from Pierre like he had.

“Do you want me to punch him?”

Esteban snorted, shaking his head in amusement as he always did when Elena seemed to be able to read his mind. And he knew perfectly well that she would no doubt go through with it if he asked.

“Shouldn’t you advise me to be the bigger man?”

Elena shrugged, examining her perfectly polished red nails that never seemed to chip, no matter how hard she went on the drums “That’s why I said _I_ would punch him, not you”

“You’re right Lena that changes everything” he sarcastically conceded “but it’s fine, really”

“Well the offer stands, in case you change your mind”

He nodded, but before he could say anything else it was finally time for Silver Arrow to go onstage, and he cheered along with everyone else as the first notes of Don’t Stop Me Now rang out from the stage and through the fields.

Watching Silver Arrow play live was something that would never get old, and the fact that literally every band that had played before them was standing on the side of the stage to watch them was testament to that.

Lewis commanded that stage like no one else could, but the rest of the band were just as incredible, all of them looking exactly like the rock gods they were as they blasted through their very first song.

The way that Lewis could play the piano while simultaneously singing such a fast song would never not impress him, and Nico’s guitar solo in that song was a thing of beauty.

It was also amazing how they all harmonized so perfectly, as though they’d been born to sing together.

After almost an hour and a half of nonstop playing they still hit every single note perfectly, and Esteban laughed when he saw how Lance was miming along to Jenson’s hand movements during every song.

Even Elena lost her ever-present composure when they played Sheer Heart Attack, and she stared slack jawed at Sebastian’s drumming, her eyes bright with admiration.

“Alright everyone, for this next song we thought we should bring out a very special guest who we all know and love” Lewis started, his smooth voice barely audible through the screams.

“Many of you might not know this, but he actually helped us compose it, so it’s only right that he helps us sing it” Nico carried on, shooting his signature disarming smile that could probably help him get away with murder.

“Ladies and gentlemen...” Lewis trailed off, chuckling as Sebastian did a drum roll “Pierre Gasly!”

Esteban’s stomach sank. Of course.

The screams increased in a tenfold when Pierre walked out to the stage and got pats on the back from both Nico and Jenson before briefly hugging Lewis with a bashful smile, all the fans clearly loving this impromptu crossover.

Lewis exchanged some quick inaudible words with Pierre before shooting him a wink and an encouraging grin, and then Jenson started playing a bass line so iconic that everyone and their mothers could instantly recognize.

“ _Mm num ba de, dum dum ba be, doo buh dum ba beh beh_ ”

“Goddamn it he cowrote that song? That was one of my favorites! Now I can’t like it anymore” Elena scowled, and Esteban would have laughed at her pettiness if his attention wasn’t solely focused on Pierre.

“ _Pressure!_

 _Pressing down on me, pressing down on you, no man ask for_ ”

Lewis and Pierre’s voices blended beautifully, and apparently, he wasn’t the only one to think that, because Charles was looking towards the two men with amazement.

“ _Under pressure that burns a building down,_

 _Splits a family in two, puts people on streets_ ”

And then Pierre started to sing the next verse alone, and gone was the nervousness that had been there right before he started singing, leaving in its wake the rockstar that he’d turned into.

Esteban was mesmerized. 

“ _It’s the terror of knowing what this world is about,_

_Watching some good friends screaming let me out,_

_Pray tomorrow gets me higher_

_Pressure on people, pressure on streets_ ”

Esteban had always loved Pierre’s voice, he had been his biggest fan once upon a time after all, constantly encouraging him and telling him he absolutely had what it takes to make it big.

But now his voice was more polished, clearly having evolved with the years, and as much as he tried to avoid it, Esteban couldn’t help but feel pride tugging at his heartstrings.

“ _Turned away from it all like a blind man,_

_Sat on a fence but it don’t work_

_Keep coming up with love but it’s so slashed and torn_ ”

Lewis and Pierre’s voices sounded borderline angelic when the rest of the instruments faded out for that verse, and the way they were looking at each other as they sang made Esteban wonder what exactly their shared history was.

He hadn’t known Pierre was particularly close to the other band, but if they’d written a song together, surely they must be.

“ _Why, why, why?”_

Esteban thought no one could reach the high notes Lewis did, but here Pierre was proving him wrong, the crowd going wild as the other instruments joined in with their singing and reached the crescendo.

“ _Insanity laughs under pressure we’re breaking_ ”

In that moment Pierre turned to face their side of the stage, and as if arranged by fate itself, his eyes met Esteban’s when he started up the next lines.

Even if he’d wanted to, Esteban wouldn’t have been able to look away.

“ _Can’t we give ourselves one more chance?_

_Why can’t we give love that one more chance?_

_Why can’t we give love, give love, give love?”_

There was something shining through Pierre’s face that made Esteban feel like his heart would beat out of his chest, and it almost felt like there was some sort of wire connecting them to each other, tension building between them until it was almost suffocating.

But then Lewis was throwing his arm around Pierre’s shoulder, the younger man averting his eyes to look at him, and the moment passed.

“ _Because love’s such an old-fashioned word,_

_And love dares you to care for_

_The people on the edge of the night_

_And love dares you to change our way of_

_Caring about ourselves_ ”

Even if Pierre was no longer looking at him, Esteban couldn’t tear his eyes away, entranced by the strange moment they had just shared.

“Oh my God... _Esteban_ ”

Esteban startled at Elena’s voice, and he craned his neck to look at her, his eyebrows furrowing when he noticed the sheer disbelief plastered across her face.

“What?”

“You still love him” she breathed out, her eyes wide with horror.

“Of course I don’t!” Esteban quickly defended, recoiling as though her words had physically slapped him.

“ _This is our last dance_

_This is our last dance_

_This is ourselves_ ”

“Oh, baby”

Esteban absolutely hated the way Elena was looking at him, he hated that she had come to such a conclusion just from watching him watch Pierre.

“ _Under pressure_ ”

He hated Pierre, he had hated him for more than half a decade by now.

He wasn’t in love with him, he simply wasn’t.

“ _Under pressure_ ”

... right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cheeky change in POV in this chapter, and now we know a little bit of Esteban's side of the story. 
> 
> Now you know the chapter was that long mostly because we met quite a few important characters and I had to set up their backstories. Also quick disclaimer: I know Marta and Belén aren't actually sisters, but for all intents and purposes of this story they are :)
> 
> I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter and if you did please remember to leave kudos and/or comments, and also remember you can find me on tumblr at @lewixco
> 
> Until next time 💛


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am back from war lads! I just re-started university so I can't promise I'll update every week, but I promise I'll try to at least do it every other week. I actually had a pretty difficult time with this chapter but it ended up being 5.3K words long so yeah, that was nice.
> 
> The songs used in this chapter are: Our Last Summer by ABBA (you know I had to include ABBA, this is a 70's AU) and Sunshine of Your Love by Cream.
> 
> So without further ado, I hope you all enjoy this chapter!
> 
> (Trigger warning: descriptions of drug use and the consequent effects of said drugs)

Music had always been the perfect way for Pierre to forget all about the troubles in his life, especially when it came to performing live.

But this time, not even playing for 700,000 people was enough to get Esteban out of his head.

Daniel had immediately noticed something was off with him, his brow creasing with concern when he saw how shaken Pierre looked right before Electric Blue’s set started.

When it was their time to play, Pierre only pulled through their set thanks to years of practice, and he only got through the song he did with Silver Arrow through sheer determination. But everything came crashing down when he got offstage after finishing up with Under Pressure.

He had no idea what came over him during whatever _that_ moment with Esteban had been, but he didn’t even want to try and decipher it.

So after hugging Lewis goodbye and bowing together for the audience, he high tailed it off the stage from the side where he knew he wouldn’t run into him or anyone else from his band.

And he thankfully didn’t run into anyone from his own band either, since even though he loved them to death and knew they always had his best interests in mind, he just didn’t want to talk about it right now.

Which was why he allowed himself to be whisked away to the after party by the first person who offered him a ride, completely disregarding the nagging voice in his head (which sounded suspiciously like Nicholas) that told him he shouldn’t accept rides from strangers.

He got to the hotel in one piece though, and the man was sufficiently kind to accept his polite refusal after he very indiscreetly propositioned Pierre.

The party was already in full swing when Pierre stepped into the hotel’s bar, being immediately let in by the security guard turned bouncer who was checking that the people allowed in weren’t crazed fans.

(Pierre had once seen a particularly enthusiastic Stones groupie nearly tear Mick’s hair off, so he was pretty glad about that)

It wasn’t at all surprising that he knew most of the people there, he even saw Daniil Kvyat (singer-songwriter and a dear friend of his) playing some sort of drinking game with Marta and Roger Daltrey, and he made a mental note to head over and say hi later.

Before he knew it he found himself with a mysterious drink in his hand, and he only checked with the girl who had given him it that it hadn’t come from the big crystal bowl filled with pink punch that he knew from experience was definitely laced with acid.

During their newbie days, the whole band had made the mistake of drinking that dangerous pink punch, and while acid could be very fun when you consciously took it, it was decidedly less so when you started hallucinating out of nowhere.

But no, the random drink turned out to be straight up tequila, and because of that he was already feeling pleasantly buzzed when he was finished with it.

The buzz was almost enough to make him forget about Esteban. Key word being almost.

Pierre shook his head furiously, angrily stalking towards the open bar and refilling his cup with more of the amber colored liquor. He’d been doing such a stellar job of suppressing everything from his past, only to have all that effort come crashing down in less than a few weeks.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t notice the person standing right in front of him until he was already running into them, and really, he needed to stop doing that.

A pair of strong hands steadied him before he could go crashing into the floor, and when Pierre looked up it took him a moment to place the face that was staring down at him, with a charming grin stretching his lips.

“Hi Pierre, long time no see”

Pierre stared in shocked silence for a few seconds, his brain trying to reconcile the man who was standing in front of him with the teenager he had met a few years back.

“Baby Schumi?”

And clearly, he did not appreciate the nickname, since his formerly happy expression was promptly replaced with a scowl.

“God I really wish people could stop calling me that”

Pierre gave a little snort at that, and the German’s grin returned at the sound “I’m sorry, but wow, look at you man you’re taller than me now”

“That’s what happens when you stop seeing someone for four years I guess” Mick teased, and only then did Pierre realize his hands were still on his shoulders.

Huh. His brain was too fuzzy to deal with that information right now.

“So, what brings you to Isle of Wight? Just enjoying the festival?”

Someone bumped into Mick before he could answer, and since he was still holding on to Pierre most of the tequila in his cup went sloshing right out of it.

“Wanna go sit down?” Mick shouted over the music, and Pierre nodded before following him towards one of the many tables that were scattered across the room.

The kid sat much closer than what was strictly necessary, but he let it slide, reasoning that they probably wouldn’t be able to hear each other if he sat any further away.

“What brings you here then?” he asked again, and he noticed a bit irritated that while his feet dangled a few inches over the floor, Mick had no problem firmly placing his down.

It was unfair really, he still remembered how tiny of a sixteen-year-old Mick had once been.

“Well in short, I started a band with two of my friends and since literally everyone is here, we had a few meetings with representatives from labels who want to sign us”

Pierre nodded thoughtfully, he expected nothing more from Mick than taking after his father and joining the music scene.

Michael Schumacher had been the blueprint for many of the musicians working today, what with his rock sound mixed with psychedelic influences that were nothing short of revolutionary at the time.

It was a mystery to the general public why Michael had retired, but those who knew him were aware that he had been happy enough to have paved the way for the new generations, and he was more than glad to get out of the way and watch them do their thing while he enjoyed retirement with his wife Corinna.

Even then, it was no secret that Michael still kept a close eye on what went on in the industry, particularly what regarded the label he had cofounded with his former bandmate Mika Hakkinen, who was now the official head of the company.

“Right, don’t take this the wrong way Mick but why don’t you just sign with your dad’s label?”

Mick sighed, clearly used to being asked that question “I just don’t want people to compare us to them, it’s not fair for Callum or Marcus”

Pierre assumed Callum and Marcus were his bandmates, and he had to admit that the kid did have a point. It must be hard to be your own person when your dad was a virtual rock legend.

“Who’re you considering then?”

“We were thinking either Pérez’s label or RB Records, Niki is great and all, but they have their hands full with Silver Arrow’s comeback and that one other band at the moment”

Pierre took a quick sip of his drink to hide his wince at the mention of “that one other band”. You’d think he’d be getting used to being reminded of Esteban, but apparently his heart had other ideas.

“I mean, as a signee of RB Records, I’d definitely recommend you go with Pérez. I have it in good authority that they actually care about their artists over there, while Horner and Marko only look at us and see walking ATM’s”

Mick whistled “That bad?”

“Worse. Usually, they don’t interfere much with our music, but last year we wanted to make an experimental album and they flat out refused, said they wouldn’t give us the resources for it” Pierre shrugged, even though the memory still managed to make his blood boil “There wasn’t anything we could do about it”

“Wow, and to think they promised us complete creative freedom”

Pierre huffed “Yeah, they promise you many things. But hey speaking about creative freedom, are you following in the old man’s footsteps and revolutionizing rock?”

Mick’s smile turned a little sheepish, and he brought a hand to rub at the back of his neck.

“Um, not really. Our sound is a lot more pop-like, if you will”

And Pierre didn’t want to come off as an asshole who looked down on popular music, but he couldn’t help the way his eyebrows shot up to his hairline.

“A Schumacher doing pop? Damn”

“That’s the reaction everyone’s had,” Mick chuckled, thankfully unfazed by his shock “I think that since I grew up on rock, I just wanted to try something different… and I really like synths”

Pierre laughed “Yeah I don’t blame you, synths are pretty cool”

Mick’s eyes flickered towards something behind Pierre for a second before leaning forward and letting his hand come to rest over his knee, voice dropping considerably “You know… I could show you some of what we’re working on anytime”

Ah, so he hadn’t been reading the signs wrong.

“Mick –“

“And I bet I could learn a lot from you” the German practically purred, getting even closer to Pierre as he tilted his head down so he could look at him through lowered lashes.

Pierre barked out a laugh at his forwardness, gently taking Mick’s hand in his and moving it away from where it had been subtly inching up his thigh.

“Jesus kid, does your mother know that you’re out?”

Mick rolled his eyes, a slight blush tinting his cheeks “I’m not a kid, I’m twenty”

“Yeah no, try again”

“Fine, I’m nineteen. But I’ll be twenty in a month!”

_Twenty in a month, almost exactly as Nicolas would’ve been._

He adamantly ignored the intrusive voice in his thoughts. He wasn’t going to go down that road, not tonight.

Instead, he shook his head in amusement, almost wanting to tell Mick that the way he was pouting only served to make him look even younger.

“Sorry Mick, I can’t. Not in good conscience”

Mick only looked slightly disappointed at his refusal, and he leaned back on his stool “Fine, but at least let me get you a drink”

“Now that I can do”

The younger man stood up and headed to the bar, quickly disappearing amongst the crowd. Pierre took the chance to look around the room, trying to see if his bandmates had already gotten back.

However, he noticed something that had his forehead creasing into a frown. Two men who he was pretty sure he’d never seen before in his life were very openly glaring at him from where they were leaning against the wall, and their glares were fierce enough that Pierre started to try and remember when he had messed with either of them.

His mind was coming up short though, so he just shrugged it off as them being two of those people who really didn’t vibe with their music.

Mick came back to the table soon enough, handing him a red solo cup and taking a few gulps from his own.

And then he got an idea.

“Hey Mick, you don’t happen to know those two guys who keep staring at me as though I kicked their puppies do you?”

He subtly pointed towards them with a flick of his head, and he got his answer when Mick’s eyes followed the movement and a very strong flush instantly crept up his neck.

“Oh. I – I do actually. They’re my bandmates”

Pierre hummed, pretty certain that he had connected the dots he previously hadn’t even known existed.

“Of course, and which one of them is in love with you then?”

Mick choked on his drink, and Pierre grinned like a Cheshire cat as he all but confirmed his suspicions.

“Neither of them!” he spluttered, the flush that was previously just running up his neck now covering practically his entire face.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night baby Schumi”

It was only then that Pierre turned to look at the drink Mick had given him, and when he did, he froze on the spot.

“Uhm, Mick? Where exactly did you get these drinks?”

Mick looked slightly confused at the question, but he was mostly glad for the change of subject “From the punch bowl by the bar, I already had one it’s pretty good”

Pierre had really hoped he wouldn’t say that.

“And did you know that that punch bowl is laced with LSD?”

The German started choking again, and Pierre grimaced. He could sympathize with that.

“It’s what?!”

“Okay, don’t panic, there’s not much you can do about it now but you’re gonna be fine”

“I’ve never done LSD before,” Mick bemoaned, pushing the offending cup away from him as if that would get rid of the situation “what if I hallucinate that I can fly and jump out a window? Oh God”

“That won’t happen”

“You can’t know that!”

Pierre knew that if Mick continued to panic then things _could_ get real bad. Nico had once told him about a bad trip he’d had one time he took acid after a fight with Lewis, and he explicitly told him never to consume any type of hallucinogen unless he was feeling emotionally stable.

“How about I stay with you until it wears off?” he asked, Mick’s eyes widening minutely at the evidently unexpected offer.

“No it’s okay you don’t have to –“

“I want to” Pierre cut him off, looking him straight in the eye so he could hopefully notice how sincere he was being.

And he _was_ being sincere. Ever since that night, Pierre had wondered if things might’ve been different had he – or anyone else, really – had been there to take care of Nicolas. He wasn’t about to fail someone who clearly needed help, not again.

“Alright” Mick relented, still looking a bit hesitant even if his shoulders had sagged with relief.

“Great, we should go to your room though, I’m sharing with Daniel and I can’t promise he’ll be coming back unaccompanied tonight”

“Oh. Y-Yeah, sure”

Pierre stood up then, Mick instantly following his cue and guiding him through the crowd towards the elevator, a firm hand pressed to the spot between his shoulder blades.

As he noticed the way entirely too many heads followed their path, Pierre rolled his eyes, already dreading the many rumours that would undoubtedly spur from this.

And if Mick’s mysterious bandmates had been glaring at him before, when they passed near them Pierre was almost certain that they would actually murder him.

But hey, he had already been punched in the face once by one of Daniel’s exes who had been sure they were sleeping together, so what was one more time?

Thankfully though, no punches were thrown, and they reached Mick’s room in less than five minutes.

Pierre casually took off his shoes and made himself comfortable on the left side of the bed, wanting to make sure that Mick felt as at ease as he possibly could.

He still looked too nervous for Pierre’s liking, but he didn’t know if it had more to do with the drugs or the fact that he was on his bed.

“Hey, I promise it’s not a terrible experience, obviously it’s awful that this happened but you really need to stay calm or else you’ll risk having a bad trip and trust me, you don’t want that”

Mick gulped but nodded, finally taking off his shoes and joining him in the bed, doing his best to relax against the headboard even while his blue eyes betrayed his anxiety.

Pierre’s heart clenched, unable to stop himself from wondering if that was how Nicolas had looked on that fateful night.

He cut that train of thought short before he spiraled into an anxiety attack, not needing to remember how Nicolas had been even younger, and so painfully innocent.

He couldn’t think about that, not now, right now he had to focus on Mick.

“Did I ever tell you the story about Munich?”

Both of them knew he hadn’t, but Mick still shook his head in answer, looking very much intrigued.

“Well, it all started when Daniel, Alex, George and I decided to try some mushrooms offered to us by Jerry García himself...”

Yeah, they had all made a pact that they would never talk about Munich, but he thought they’d understand.

The story was sufficiently wild that even Johnny Rotten was shocked when Daniel told him bits and pieces of it (evidently, none of them took the pact too seriously), and five minutes in, Mick seemed to have forgotten all about his anxiety.

He looked so into the story that Pierre even began to think that maybe they’d forgotten to lace the punch bowl this time around.

“Pierre?”

“Yeah?”

“Why had you never told me your eyes changed color?”

Or maybe not.

Pierre kept on talking to Mick about any and every anecdote about the band that came to his mind, even when the younger man’s eyes got that glazed over look that was the tell-tale sign he was too far gone to register what he was saying.

He stayed up even after Mick had fallen asleep, not wanting to risk something happening and him not being alert enough to help him.

The logical part of his brain told him that it was extremely unlikely that his body would react badly to LSD, but he couldn’t take any chances.

He wouldn’t fail Mick, not like he’d failed Nicolas.

Pierre gently carded his fingers through the German’s blonde hair, his heart feeling impossibly heavy as he imagined what Nicolas would’ve been like had he reached his age.

Would he have also gone into music? Or would he have followed in their father’s footsteps like Mick had his, and gone into law?

Would he be dating by now, even if Pierre tried his damnedest to scare away any girl or guy who pined after him? Would he still look at Pierre with the same childish admiration he always had?

And would Pierre still be with Esteban, if things hadn’t turned out the way they had?

Would they have gone through with the plans they’d so enthusiastically designed when they were just two naive teenagers? Would they have done everything they’d talked about during those countless nights they spent together?

Would they have kept that promise, about how they would never let anything break them apart?

Letting his mind wander had always been one of the most dangerous things Pierre could do.

He itched with the urge to go take something, anything that would take his mind off things.

If he wasn’t so preoccupied with tending for Mick, he was sure he would’ve already been doing something he’d regret in the morning.

Instead, all he could do was smoke cigarette after cigarette, desperately urging the nicotine to calm his anxiety the way only something harder usually could.

It must have been around six am when Pierre’s body forced him to get some sleep, after having been looking after Mick for five whole hours.

And when sleep finally took him, God was merciful enough to grant him a night without dreams.

* * *

“My mouth feels like cotton”

Pierre was startled awake by Mick’s voice, groaning a little in discomfort at the way the sun that filtered through the curtains was shining right in his eyes.

Mick was already sitting up on the bed, rubbing tiredly at his eyes and still looking slightly disoriented.

Pierre wasn’t overly worried though, the fact that Mick was already speaking full sentences was a great sign.

When it had happened to them, it had taken George fifteen full hours until he started to come off from his high. Nicky had nearly gotten a hernia from how much he had worried.

“Let me get you some water” Pierre said through a yawn, groggily getting up from the bed and heading to the bathroom so he could fill up a cup with tap water.

Mick took it gratefully, gulping down the entire thing in a few seconds. He then started fiddling with the plastic cup, turning to look at Pierre before quickly averting his eyes.

“Thanks for staying with me Pierre, you didn’t have to”

“Don’t worry about it man,” Pierre gave shrugged “it happens”

“No but seriously, I owe you one”

Pierre was about to argue against that when his eyes fell on something he somehow hadn’t noticed during the night, even if apparently it had been leaning against Mick’s suitcase the whole time.

“I mean, if you insist, you could always show me one of your pop-y songs” he grinned wickedly, noticing how the other man’s face instantly filled with regret when he realized Pierre had noticed his guitar.

“Isn’t there anything else you want?”

Pierre’s grin only grew, shaking his head in dissent “Nope”

Mick let out a long-suffering sigh, getting back up from the bed and reluctantly taking the acoustic guitar in his hands.

He sat right next to Pierre, looking very adorably nervous.

“It probably won’t sound as good as it should, Callum usually plays the piano and Marcus does bass and we all harmonize together in some parts so obviously that’ll be missing -“

“Mick” Pierre interrupted his nervous rambling, even though he was very endeared by it “I’m sure I’ll love it, don’t overthink it”

Mick’s cheeks were a furious shade of pink, but he still nodded, checking the guitar was finely tuned before clearing his throat and starting to play a soft melody.

“ _The summer air was soft and light_

_The feeling right, the Paris night_

_Did its best to please us_ ”

Pierre couldn’t help but smile again. Mick’s voice was almost dulcet, with the type of intonation that sounded just how honey tasted like.

“ _And strolling down the Elysée_

_We had a drink in each café_

_And you_

_You talked of politics, philosophy and I_

_Smiled like Mona Lisa_ ”

The melody had a nostalgic tinge to it, and Pierre was almost reminded of some of the softer Bee Gee’s songs. There was no denying that the kid had talent.

“ _We had our chance_

_It was a fine and true romance_

_I can still recall our last summer_

_I still see it all_

_Walks along the Seine, laughing in the rain_

_Our last summer_

_Memories that remain_ ”

Because Pierre couldn’t have a moment of peace, his brain immediately connected the lyrics to his own memories, and it was almost eerie how much he could relate to it.

He remembered how he and Esteban used to go to Paris nearly every day, because “that was where the culture was”, and how they must have walked the entire city because they had no money for public transport.

They could spend hours upon hours on a single record shop, greedily drinking in the latest music from their favorite bands, sharing a listening booth together so they could experience it at the same time.

“ _But underneath we had a fear of flying_

_Of getting old, a fear of slowly dying_

_We took the chance_

_Like we were dancing our last dance_ ”

Pierre felt a lump forming in his throat at that verse, and he tried to tune out the lyrics and focus on the music instead, not wanting Mick to think even for a second that he was reacting badly to his playing.

“ _I can still recall_

_Our last summer_

_I still see it all_

_In the tourist jam_

_Round the Notre Dame_

_Our last summer_

_Walking hand in hand_ ”

Mick nervously looked up at him after he finished the last few chords, and Pierre wondered if he also looked that scared the first time he had played something for Lewis. Probably, he supposed.

“That was amazing” he praised, feeling his heart fill with warmth at the way Mick’s whole face instantly lit up.

“Really? You’re not just saying that to be nice?”

“I might have a ton of flaws but being a liar isn’t one of them, if anything, I’m too honest”

Mick laughed, and he seemed to be the most relaxed he had been since they’d literally bumped into each other.

They stayed in a comfortable silence for a while, both of them lost in their own thoughts.

“I didn’t actually want to sleep with you last night”

“Okay…?” Pierre blinked slowly at Mick’s very sudden outburst, very confused as to where that had come from “That’s a relief, I guess”

“It’s just,” Mick paused, embarrassed “I just wanted to make someone jealous”

“Someone, or a pair of someones?”

He sighed, shoulders slumping in defeat “The second one”

“Well, if the murderous glares they shot me when we left together last night are anything to go by, I’d say you succeeded”

“I doubt it, I’m pretty sure they’re dating each other and they don’t want to tell me because they don’t want to make me feel bad”

Pierre almost wanted to shake his head in exasperation at Mick’s obliviousness, but he refrained from doing so. He remembered what it was like was to be a teenager, when everything somehow felt like the end of the world, especially when it concerned love.

“Mick, I’ve literally never talked to the guys and I still have reasons to suspect that they both like you. No offense, but get your head out of your ass”

The German snorted at that, which counted as a win in Pierre’s book.

“I guess I needed to hear that” he relented, sitting up straighter “and thanks again, I didn’t remember you being so wise”

Pierre could’ve laughed.

Him, wise? He was sure the entire band, Nicky, and half the population of Great Britain would disagree.

Still, it was nice to hear it.

“It’s been known to happen once in a while” Pierre teased, bringing a hand up to squeeze his shoulder in a friendly manner, ignoring yet another godforsaken pang that ran through his chest when he noticed the way Mick’s blue eyes crinkled when he smiled.

He really did remind him of Nicolas, and at the moment, he couldn’t tell whether that was a good thing or not.

“I better get going back to our rooms before Alex sends a search party after me” Pierre then said, and he was only half-joking. He had no idea what time it was, but if it was anywhere past eleven, he was sure that Alex would be more than ready to berate him for disappearing for so long.

Usually, they gave each other an eleven AM curfew that signaled the acceptable time for them to reappear after a night out, no matter where they were or what they were doing. And if they didn’t respect the curfew, everyone else was officially allowed to start worrying.

“Sure,” Mick nodded, and he was kind enough to walk Pierre to the door even if it was less than two meters away from them “don’t be a stranger”

“Never baby Schumi, I’ll be waiting to hear from your band. What was it called again?”

“It’s called FDA” Mick rolled his eyes at the nickname, but Pierre could tell he didn’t really mind.

He hummed appreciatively, it was a pretty solid name.

“And what does it mean?”

“We’ll never tell” Mick grinned, giving him a cheeky salute stepping back into the room and shutting the door behind him.

Pierre snorted, of course.

He started to walk down the corridor towards the elevator, when a door suddenly opened to his right and a very disheveled Daniel Ricciardo nearly ran right into him.

“Pierre!” Daniel greeted way louder than necessary, his eyes widening as he quickly looked back to the room he’d stepped out of.

Pierre frowned at his suspicious behavior, trying to get a look at who was at the other side of the door but only managing to catch a glimpse of a pale white hand before it was being hastily slammed shut.

“Hey Dan, who’s room is that?”

And Daniel was a man of many talents, but lying had never been his strong suit.

“Uhhh, I can’t remember his name actually”

The Frenchman sighed, “Mate you know I’d never judge you, but you better not have slept with Hulkenberg again, I saw him at the party last night and I swear to God that next time Kevin tries to murder you I won’t stop him”

“Hey!” Dan exclaimed, affronted “That only happened like two -”

“Six. At the very least”

“- times! But regardless, I swear it wasn’t him”

He wasn’t giving any of the telltale signs that he was lying, so Pierre was inclined to believe him, even if there was definitely something that he was hiding.

The two finally entered the elevator after that matter was settled, and it was only when the doors closed that Daniel seemed to remember Pierre also hadn’t slept in their room last night.

“Hey! Whose room were _you_ coming out of anyways?” Daniel narrowed his eyes, looking Pierre up and down as if he’d get some insight from it.

Pierre shrugged noncommittally “Mick Schumacher”

“You slept with baby Schumi?” Daniel gasped, clutching at his chest in a very dramatic motion.

“Of course I didn’t” he clarified, exiting the elevator on their floor and leaving Daniel to follow after him “he accidentally took pink punch and I was looking after him”

The bassist flinched, obviously having also been reminded when that had been them.

“Oof, you’d think someone would’ve thought to put up a sign next to the bloody bowl by now”

“You’re telling me”

Not ten seconds passed after they knocked on the door before it was swinging open to reveal Alex’s less than impressed face staring down at them, and both Pierre and Daniel felt strangely like scolded teenagers.

“Is it after eleven?” Daniel asked hesitantly, giving Alex his best guilty smile even if it had stopped working on him about three months after they’d met.

“Ten fifty” Alex answered curtly, somehow looking even more unimpressed when Pierre and Daniel fist-bumped victoriously before getting inside the room.

Unsurprisingly, George and Nicky were already there, the latter lazily playing the riff of Sunshine of Your Love while Nicky stared at him with a lovestruck expression on his face.

He didn’t say anything though, after all, George had written the song for him, so he supposed that gave them a free pass to be annoyingly sweet.

George stopped playing when he saw them come in, instantly giving the two newcomers an insufferable smirk.

“Interesting night?”

“You could say that” Pierre answered curtly, already starting to get out of his dirty, crumpled clothes and snatching a white shirt and a pair of turquoise corduroy pants from Alex’s suitcase. They were more than a little big for him, but that only made them all the more comfortable.

“Since the prodigal sons are here, I think we should talk about that thing we were talking about earlier” Alex said, emphasizing the word _thing_ in such a way that instantly had Pierre tensing up.

Nicky’s grimace did nothing to ease his nerves, especially when he saw how even George looked uncomfortable.

“What _thing_?”

“Yeah, about that” Nicky started, clearing his throat and looking at anything other than Pierre “remember how we were looking for a band to be your supporting act during your shows in the US?”

“Nicholas,” Pierre shut his eyes, taking a sharp intake of breath “please don’t say what I think I know you’re going to say”

But Nicky was a firm believer of the rip-it-off-like-a-band-aid method, so he powered through “Horner called yesterday, he talked to Niki and they came to an agreement about –“

“ _No_ ”

“- Electric Blue opening your shows while you’re in America”

“Jesus _fucking_ Christ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that was that. I honestly toyed with the idea of going down the Pierre/Mick road but it felt more organic to make their relationship more like an older brother/younger brother thing, and it actually turned out to be very useful to give a bit more backstory.
> 
> Next chapter we're finally getting into that juicy Pierresteban stuff I promise, and as it always does with these two, expect a lot of pettiness and drama.
> 
> Remember that you guys can always find me on tumblr at @lewixco and also if you guys want to leave kudos and/or comments, I'd greatly appreciate that.
> 
> Oh and also, I made a playlist for this story in case you guys wanna go listen to it: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6MSp87ADl04D4czfhxX0wj 💛
> 
> Until next time!

**Author's Note:**

> And that was the first chapter! This one was mostly to set the tone and introduce Electric Blue, and next chapter we'll actually get into the juicy stuff.
> 
> If you liked it please remember to leave kudos and/or comments and also you can go find me in tumblr at @lewixco <3
> 
> (Oh and the song used for this chapter is 20th Century Boy by Marc Bolan, which is a really great song and you should all listen to it)


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